


Proximal Triggers

by Canaan



Series: Twins!verse [5]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe, Humor, Introspection, Multi, Plot What Plot, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-19
Updated: 2011-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-19 14:17:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canaan/pseuds/Canaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He'd watched Rose walk away down the main corridor earlier on ('there's a divinity that shapes our ends,' as Hamlet said--and who was Will watching walk away when he penned that one?), and then retreated to the nearest empty room, because his suit trousers just were not made to hide this sort of thing." 10.5 and Donna. Twisted Twins!verse crack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proximal Triggers

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for the Saying Yes! 2010 community on LJ, but I've somehow managed to fill each part of Joking's prompt while simultaneously bending it until it cried mercy. Follows "The Sea Maid, Rewritten." DameRuth, Mimarie, and Aibhinn were my BRs and your saviors--if you think this smutlet is confusing now, you should have seen it before they got their hands on it. Disclaimer: RTD and the BBC own the characters, Doctor Who, and Torchwood.  
> 

It was hard to watch Rose, Jack, and the Doctor together--even in the small glimpses the other Doctors caught. A flash of three heads (blonde, brown, and dark) as they passed the kitchen doorway was disgustingly cute. A glimpse of a kiss traded along with a spanner as the Time Lord worked side by side with one of his paramours to install the central console produced a disassociated sort of longing. They tried to ignore it, the DoctorDonna continuing her work on the circuits in the console room's wall and the Time Lord's doppelganger working by himself--physically, anyway--in the temporal adjudication chamber in the underbelly of the ship (because three Doctors was too many in one _TARDIS_ , let alone in one _room_ ).

Having all of them working at once was the fastest way to get the necessary things done. Growing a second TARDIS had been easy: all they'd had to do was seed a few and jump forward a couple decades at a time to run off any overly-curious fauna. But the cybernetics that let a team of pilots interface with the new timeship took labor, and there was no way to shortcut that. Anything that sped the process was brilliant, because they were arrogant, all of them--bordering on megalomania, really. They could cooperate, the Time Lord and the two who had become something else, but the dimensionally transcendent ship that had so long been their partner felt too small to hold three of their personalities without strain.

The happy bloody trio just made things worse. It was disgusting, really: Even when they were busy being miserable--something they were all very good at, and _Donna_ could tell, even if no one else in this ludicrous production of _The Sorcerer's Apprentice_ could--they were so happy to be together. To make matters worse, the three of them were having oodles of mind-blowing sex, and she-and-he couldn't quite escape knowing it, and it had been a very long time since Lee.

Another lifetime, in fact. He-and-she remembered loving Lee as Donna, but it was like it had happened to someone else. Just like they remembered loving Jack and Rose as the Doctor . . . and still cared about them, but now the beloved humans were just companions.

 _Bloody gorgeous companions,_ he/they thought. He was lying in bed, she knew, in a nearly-blank room he'd chosen because _his_ room was taken, thank you very much, and there didn't seem much point in decorating when they were just going to leave, and they weren't sure what the resulting décor would say about they ways they'd . . . altered.

 _Are you sure it's just us in here?_ she/they joked, in the privacy of her own room and their own heads. _That sounded like a bit of Captain Jack._

 _Captain Jack hasn't learned to swear in British idiom in a hundred forty years._ His thought was like slightly acid wine. _He's hardly likely to start now. And he's spent close to_ two hundred _years learning to manage a human sex drive. How_ do _you people_ cope _?_

 _How do_ we _people cope, you mean._

 _Yes,_ they agreed, in one of those shifts that were growing frighteningly less awkward all the time, where their minds stopped running in parallel and started running in tandem. He/they had watched Rose walk away down the main corridor earlier on ("there's a divinity that shapes our ends," as Hamlet said--and who was Will watching walk away when he penned that one?), and then retreated to the nearest empty room, because his suit trousers just were not made to hide this sort of thing.

No wonder humans couldn't manage their hormone levels sensibly. It was like trying to hold back a tsunami with a push broom.

There'd been a time when they'd had free rein to touch human heat with properly-cool hands. They remembered Rose's lips, sweet and warm and so often curved in a smile. They remembered other curves. Two sets of hands stopped suddenly on two very different chests in two different rooms in a moment of alarm that she/they could think about another woman that way, even knowing that they weren't really human and they really weren't Time Lord, which made it xenophilia and, so, mostly irrelevant.

 _We're nine hundred years old. There shouldn't be anything that makes us blush like primary school children--no matter what complexions we're stuck with in these bodies._ There was an internal tug of war, inducing a minor headache in two skulls. _Orgasms are good for headaches,_ they remembered, and fingers teased nipples into tumescing.

The vivid sense-memory of lips changed, becoming hotter and harder, licking and sucking and biting in something that was both sex and power struggle. Jack was a bit of all right, and if they weren't in love with him, his natural pheromones (which were probably not natural at all, humans having begun to engineer themselves well before Jack's birth) and the devilment in his eyes were enough to convince even a soul that didn't know him that he probably wouldn't mind featuring heavily in someone else's dirty fantasies.

One mind ran hands down two bodies as they thought about Jack's tongue on a nipple, the texture of his hair in their hands as he kissed a long line down a body that wasn't either of theirs, but which they remembered vividly from the inside. He was very good with his tongue, they remembered, and the cognitive dissonance around the memory of Jack's mouth on her cock shook the synchronization apart.

She/they only resisted the urge to move her hand from between her legs and cover herself with the bedclothes because she knew perfectly well it wouldn't do any good--the neural entanglement didn't come with an off switch. The fact that he was doing the exact same thing didn't make it any better--maybe worse. _Oh, isn't this just wizard. It's worse than getting caught by my best friend--more like suddenly finding my brother's tossing off in the same room._

And in the Time Lord's room, the lovebirds were at it again. The other two Doctors would, eventually, drift further from his template and so be able to avoid more than a polite awareness of him. _After how many hundreds of years? Oh God, shoot me now,_ she thought.

She felt her otherself's surrender to the unavoidable and tried to divorce herself from the somatic knowledge of what he was resuming, even as the increased endorphins in his bloodstream affected both of them. He/they thought, _We've been so busy working on our TARDIS that we haven't even begun to look at the ways our genetic code has changed--we've no idea how much longer we might live, but even if we only get the three score and ten biblically allotted to humans, that's far too long to put up with these ridiculous primitive mating instincts without relief because of a lingering human social awkwardness._

The logic made them feel better. The fact that he/they was shouting about it in his own way probably helped more. _Primitive instincts?_ she/they complained as she put her own fingertips where they best belonged. _We had all of time and space before us, and yet we still remember spending a fair bit of time wearing big ears and a grin and one of those two. Sometimes both of them. Seems to me we've learned a thing or two from/as humans._

 _Oi!_

 _Shut up! I'm thinking about Brad Pitt._

She thought she heard _Thinking is overrated . . ._ before they realized it wasn't very Time Lord-like.

Orgasms _were_ still good for headaches. They suspected the Time Lord knew that, too. If they weren't so aware of him--and if they didn't remember his lovers quite so intensely--the relief of release might have lasted longer.

 _Blimey, we've got to get the second TARDIS moving,_ they thought. _Unalleviated proximity to the happy trio is going to drive us mad. Not like it's much of a trip._ They ruminated for a moment. _And we've got to get laid more often._

They agreed.


End file.
